I'm in love with Charles Handy...and the idea of bonsai businesses

So I'm listening to NPR in the car yesterday (as one does when one is of a certain age and has become totally flippin' allergic to commercials). Marketplace was on (btw, don't you love the names of the people on NPR? I had a friend who named his goldfish after them. The ones that survived longest were Bob Edwards and Snik Paprikash. I think Mandalite Del Barco met an untimely demise and subsequent ride in the porcelain funeral-home fun-swirl machine).

Charles Handy (who I must admit I never heard of before--he's the founder of the London Business School and a professor at Claremont Graduate University's Drucker School of Business) came on to do a little sidebar story and I fell ass over teakettle in love. I was also jealous. Because he NAILED it much better than I could:

Bigger isn't always better for business.

You've got to read it in his own words...but he's basically saying that he can't figure out why businesses always want to grow, grow, grow. And I totally agree. Great quotes:

If I were to visit a symphony orchestra and ask them about their growth plans for the future, how would they respond? They would talk about their plans to extend their repertoire and to bring their work to new audiences, not about increasing the number of violinists. The same holds true for a school or a hospital. Once they get to the appropriate size, they strive to be better not bigger.

This makes so much sense. Think about it. Why are there so many startups out there? Why did the founders of your company start the company in the first place? I bet it was because the alternatives sucked. Either no one was fixing a very specific problem for specific people (think MySpace vs Facebook), or some huge company was solving it in a half-assed way (think Word vs Google Docs).

And then what happens? "Wow! This is working! Let's do more features! Let's get more customers! Lets drive market share by pushing more people into the funnel! Once they show up, let's expand what we are doing for them!"

And voila, you're on the path to creating something that works well sometimes for some people--and you're opening the door to another little company that can come in and sweep up behind you.

And I can hear you: what about growth? scale? profits?
What about great examples like Google and Facebook? They're HUGE.

My answers: What if your company and product could be and stay the best at solving that problem you identified? What if you worked on it until you absolutely nailed it? What then? No one could sneak in behind you doing it 'better.' You intellectual capital would be impossible to reproduce. You would get to know your customers better than anyone else could ever know them.

And what about the examples? Well, apologies to buddies of mine who work at Facebook, but it's getting really, really top-heavy in my opinion. Why was it so popular when it launched? I think it had to do with the benefits of being inside the protected four walls of universities. I think it 'nailed' (bad choice of words, perhaps) the goals and needs of a very specific target audience. It wasn't screaming with ads. There weren't thousands of new applications on there. It was protected from the grabby reach of grownups who want to sell crap.

And now? Yup. Insanely popular. Great for contacts in many ways. Very good UI, which keeps people from the freedom that leads to sparkly bright pink with orange text myspace pages. But. But but but. Obviously, there's a tipping point somewhere in there. Let's see what happens, shall we?

And as for Google, exactly how many of the features they have do you use? Maps? Sure. Shopping? Maybe. Wanna know how many more there are? Well, see for yourself.

By the way, how many of you out there find the Google search results really awesome? Not me. Great for speed and convenience, but I have a REALLY hard time believing that this is the best way to present the glory of the world of information that is available at our fingertips. It's the best way to show links that have won the 'game' of SEO. So we're back to the grabby grownups who sell stuff again. They are SO annoying.

Another lovely quote form the Handy segment:

An executive in the project I am working on at the Drucker School in Claremont, California calls the business he created a "bonsai" organization, after those small Japanese trees. These trees need to be trimmed and reshaped, but they don't grow beyond their ordained size.

So, once you start itching to grow, because you're bored or feeling all imperialistic and stuff, what do you do? Create a forest, but don't grow your little perfect jewel into a silly-looking redwood.

And his final point:

...if we aren't careful, organizations can become the prisons for our souls.

Yup. You grow and grow and grow your business, and you end up with exactly the kind of corporate atmosphere that you probably ran screaming from in the first place. And sadness ensues.

All quotes from here: http://marketplace.publicradio.org/display/web/2008/02/25/bonsai_business/

Bad words at work are SO good.

There’s proof! Swearing at work can be a-ok. Check it out: What the bleep? Swearing at work can inspire teamwork.

Which is a damn good thing for me, because when I get excited, I get a terrible potty mouth (or, now that I’m all validated and shit, I should say a ‘fabulous potty mouth.’) I love this study (and the conclusions) because it’s so great that:

• They did the study at all. I mean really. Would YOU have thought of it? Gotta love the Brits.
• They found what they did—that swearing can actually humanize a workplace.

Now, granted, you don’t want to swear around customers. But being able to be yourself at work with your colleagues (and, for example, use words that you use at home) makes tons of sense. Work really should be fun, shouldn’t it? And we’re all adults here, aren’t we?

Case in point: when I was interviewing at a certain very gigantic online retailer that starts with ama and ends with zon, I dropped the F-bomb. I had NO idea I had done this until around a month into my illustrious career there. Interviews have ‘loops’ there, so you talk to around 5 people. One of them is from another group. And, when I talked to this guy (you know who you are, B.L.) I must have gotten excited about something and said something like “bad web design drives me fucking nuts!” or “I’m so fucking psyched to work on stuff that lots of people use!” or “I mean, it’s fucking exciting that people are starting to think about CUSTOMERS!”

Something innocuous. Nothing like “you, my friend, are a fucking dork.” (which he isn't.)

SO, after the interview loop, there’s a ‘debrief.’ (talk about dirty words! It’s hilarious to me that people selectively ignore totally silly words like ‘debrief.’ I always think of a bunch of people getting in a room and dropping trou when I hear this word. But then we all know that I seem to be unusually focused on underpants, especially at work). Everyone got together, apparently, and raved about how marvelous I am. Then, B.L. said “uh, well, she dropped the F-bomb during our interview.”

Silence.

In unison from everyone else in the room, including the VP who would become my exceptionally tolerant boss, but excepting the ubiquitous HR rep, said: “So?”

And so I was hired. When I heard this story, I told B.L. I knew what went on in the debrief (debrief! tee hee!). Forever after, I looked forward to seeing him in the halls. It would go like this:

• Me: Hey! How the fuck are ya?
• B.L.: Good! How the fuck are you?!

See? The terrible F-bomb helped establish a great camaraderie between me and the manager of a whole different team.

More recently: I was doing a workshop with a new client. They are actually the client of a client, and their offices are in the south, and I kept telling myself that I need to watch my mouth. Usually, with new clients, I warn them that I have been known to drop the f-bomb when jazzed about something. For example:

• “wouldn’t that be fucking COOL?”
• “If I hear one more person say they need more web 2.0 on their site, I'm going to go fucking postal”
• “uh, how fucking DUMB is that site?”

(The latter only in reference to a competitor’s site, of course).

When I’ve had prep conversations with the client, I can almost always get a sense of whether my ‘casual tone’ will be ok. And, without fail, it HAS been ok (except for twice: a government agency and a group of university administrative types. Interesting, no?). But I didn’t know in this case.

Well, turns out this client was just as human as all the others. So much so, in fact, that by the end of the workshop we were cruising through some expletive-ridden reviews of competitors’ sites (very well-deserved) and getting a lot done.

And then, for some random reason (and it will make sense appropos to this stuff in a second), the movie ‘Signs’ was mentioned. Something like ‘wow, man, that was a SCARY movie!’ and I said ‘yeah, scary for lots of reasons. Mel Gibson, I tell ya. We chosen people do NOT approve.’ (For those who don't know, "the chosen people" is one way we Jewish people sometime refer to ourselves, tongue firmly in cheek.)

Uh oh! Religion! I followed this by blurting out something totally inappropriate:

You can say fuck at work, but you can’t mention Jesus. Politics are a total no-no. However, I’m allowed to make reference to Jewish stuff.

You know what? That is TOTALLY TRUE. Everyone agreed. Think about it. I don’t have anything witty and insightful to say about this, beyond the fact that it’s interesting. Even I’M very very careful about any mention of anything religious. That’s right. EVEN ME. I weaned myself away from saying things like “jeee-sus BIRD.” (not so offensive I imagine due to sheer ridiculosity. It’s a favorite I got from my dad and use heavily in non-work life. It’s very satisfying. You should try it.)

Always OK:

• Arrggghhh.
• D’oh
• Shizzle (a la Emily H)
• Rats! (another personal favorite)
• Crap!
• Poppycock!
• Flapdoodle! (thanks for those last three, Sonia--from whom, by the by, I've heard MUCH worse, and at significant volumes)
• Cattywompus (as in, that design is totally cattywompus)
• Any brand name that sounds like it could mean something swearish, like "Frappuccino!"
• Bonkers

Always ok (and a damn good reason to get less anal about swearing, so that we don’t sound like geeky uptight kindergarten teachers):

• Darn
• Oh fudge
• Sugar
• Heavens to Betsy!
• My stars and garters!

Generally ok:

• Damn
• Jesus (let's face it. this has become embedded in our language in a non-religious way)
• Shit (with furtive look around room to make sure no one clenches)

Often, one discovers, ok:

• Fuck!

Never really ok:

• Jesus Christ!
• I’m a republican! (this one is geographically specific, but definitely relevant in Seattle).
• I'm a democrat! (in other places, I can only assume.) (SEE? even in a BLOG this starts to get queasy!)
• Shut UP! (it’s a late-breaking one but totally true. Sonia, of see-above fame, pointed this out. You just can NOT say Shut up at work. And I think she’s right, for the very same reason I think we should be able to swear at work. Swearing isn’t really the problem. The problem is finding effective ways to communicate with each other.

Favorites still include:

• Fuck a duck.
• Fuck ME. (not as a directive. As a statement of annoyance.)
• And, of course, my trademark “Bite Me.” Which my longer-term, know-me-very-well clients will surely recognize.

Wow. This should do interesting things to my search engine rankings, no?

Travel Thing 3: The polar opposite of singing 'Happy Birthday' at work.

If you've read Travel Thing 1 and Travel Thing 2, you now know all about the elements of my Copenhagen trip that drove me nuts. Guess what? The bitchfest is over. Thing 3 is something lovely.

When I got out of the evil cab, it was still gray and drizzling outside. I found myself at a cobblestone entry-way with two brass containers - they kind of looked like spittoons, actually - each with a fairly big flame coming out of the top. In the rain, these fires were welcoming and totally fit with the age of the architecture.

The conference was held at the Mogens Dahl Institute in Copenhagen: "In a newly redecorated stables from the early 1900 hundred, the Danish conductor Mogens Dahl has designed an institute dedicated to concerts, lectures, chorus activities and musical experiences." I didn't take any pictures while I was there, but I found some online:

Figure 1: The cobbles and windows of the Mogens Dahl institute, day and night views. Day shot: Erik Refner, on aok. Night shot: mogensdahl

Inside the entryway, there was a large cobbled patio and a wall of floor to ceiling windows on the right. Behind the windows was the conference area. The room - essentially, the
majority of the building - used to be a barn. Now it is a whitewashed open space, with a balcony wrapping around the 2nd floor, and an A-frame ceiling that reaches up at least 30 feet at its peak. The room was furnished with rows of chairs, a small stage and screen, and a piano.

Figure 2: On the left, the interior of the Mogens Dahl Institut. On the right, the same space filled with people, as it was during the conference. Photo credits: musikbibliotek and mogensdahl

The facility is actually a concert hall. Benjamin Gundgaard, who created the conference, let me in on a little secret: we were going to start the conference with a song.

A song.

Think of the last conference you went to. Can you even IMAGINE 'starting with a song'? How horrifying, right? It brings visions of the dreaded coworkers-singing-sad-version-of-happy-birthday-to-you-at-work. Ugh. I hate that. For some reason, I go into anaphylactic shock any time anyone bursts into song in an office setting.

The director of the Mogens Dahl Institute took the stage and said that, because this is a musical place, starting with the song was a custom he was going to insist on. He went to sit at the piano at the back of the room. Apparently, in Denmark, it used to be the custom to start meetings with a song. I got the impression that it's certainly not as widespread a custom as perhaps it once was, but the other conference attendees greeted the surprise with only a small titter. Everyone got song sheets. (thank god, they were in Danish. I was exempt).

Prepped for my typical reaction (somewhere between gritting my teeth and vomiting), I figured the only professional thing to do was avert my eyes and go to my happy place. So I looked out of the wall of windows onto the cobbled courtyard. And then something totally surprising happened. I loved it.

The piano sounded great in the space, and then, a few bars later, everyone in the audience chimed in. Not with the pathetic warbles that say 'well, I'm trying, but clearly I find this as ridiculous as you do, which is a good thing, because I'm positive I would sound like crap anyways and who needs that embarrassment.' No. this was real singing. There were sopranos and altos and basses and other things I don't know the names of. The whole room vibrated with it, this crystal clear song in Danish. Turns out I found a brand new happy place.

So, what does this have to do with user experiences?

Well, perhaps nothing. But perhaps a lot. Let's see what kinds of lingo we can relate to the experience:

Delight. I was totally delighted. Which makes me think that maybe the element of surprise - and the layers of surprise - add to delight. First I was surprised that we were doing a song at all (the idea of which I like quite a lot actually. The thing I dread is what the singing usually sounds like). And then I was totally surprised at the willingness of the audience to participate. And then, whammo, I was totally surprised by the fact that I suddenly found myself listening to something completely lovely. I wonder, can delight happen without surprise? If you buy something online and find yourself 'delighted', isn't a large measure of that delight related to your surprise? If you expect something, can you really feel true 'delight' when it happens? And if you do, isn't it because deep down you really expected something to go wrong?

Newness. If there is nothing new under the sun, then maybe the way to give people the feeling of 'newness' and 'freshness' is to bring back something they've forgotten about. Lord knows the song thing threw me off balance completely. And maybe you have to be unbalanced to enjoy things. (Yup, I'm going to leave that sentence just as it is.) How does this relate to online customer experience?

Never underestimate the level of disappointment or discomfort your users expect.

We're all too used to being made to feel stupid by new technologies. It's going to take quite a lot to make that deep, bone-level dread go away. One way to make your site seem new and fresh is to surprise the hell out of people by making the experience less torturous than they predict it will be.

Art. Things that are beautiful are…valuable. And surprising. And delightful. Think you've got the perfect site? I bet you a million bucks you can find someone who can make it more beautiful. And I bet you another million that person will NOT be a coder, marketer, biz dev person, or anyone else stuck in the current organization.